Sickly Sweet
by the-clarity-organism
Summary: Having the new mobian body that he does, it was inevitable that Metal would get sick. It was also inevitable that his boyfriend, Sonic, would offer to help him. How Sonic decides to help Metal may or may not have been inevitable as well. (contains Mobian Metonic)


"Metal—"

"No, absolutely not."

"Mets, come on."

"I will _not_ put that _disgusting_ pill down my—" Metal cut himself off abruptly as he started coughing, hunching over the couch. Being mobian had its advantages, but this one not one of them. If he were still a robot, it would be like half of his processors were either down or malfunctioning. It was _frustrating._

Sonic sighed, frowning as he stared down at the bottle of pills in his hand. "Look, I know you don't want to. I wouldn't wanna take them either."

Metal held back another coughing fit, glaring at the bottle. "Those _things_ tamper with the body's natural process of healing itself."

"It helps you get better _faster,_ " Sonic corrected.

"Irrelevant! Those things are—" Another coughing fit, this one sounding more painful than the last. Metal broke into heavy breaths, clutching the couch like he was going to fall off. The room was spinning, and the only thing that brought Metal comfort were the multiple concerned Sonic standing in front of him.

...Oh. He must've been _really_ sick.

"Metal—" Sonic scratched his head, staring down at the pill bottle and giving it a small shake. He watched as the various pills tumbled about.

Metal groaned, turning away from Sonic and burying his face into the back cushion of the couch. He tried desperately to suppress all the terrible feelings in his head. The worst part honestly was that Sonic _never_ got sick, leaving Metal as the vulnerable mobian in their relationship.

Through the little he could detect with the fuzziness of his hearing, he heard Sonic's footsteps approaching. Metal curled up further, trying to disappear. He could sense how badly Sonic felt for him.

Sonic grasped his arm, Metal completely helpless to resist as Sonic pulled him up into a sitting position. Metal tried to glare, to tell Sonic that he didn't want Sonic's pity, but no words came out.

Mostly because Sonic had kissed him.

Metal straightened. He could hardly process Sonic's kisses when he _wasn't_ ill, so this was _impossible._ Metal whimpered, knowing that such contact was dangerous when he was sick, but _gosh,_ did it feel nice. _Sonic_ felt nice.

Sonic increased pressure, his hands cupping Metal's face as he tilted his head. His lips were warm—a stark contrast to how cold Metal felt at the moment—and Metal let it all drift into his body.

Sonic adjusted positions, shifting onto the couch and sitting on Metal's lap. Metal knew he shouldn't have, but he wrapped his arms around Sonic's neck, pulling him closer as Metal kissed back himself.

There was a sudden wetness against Metal's lips. As he opened his mouth to gasp, he was cut off as Sonic invaded his mouth.

The sickly redness of Metal's face deepened from his flustered blush. Sonic's tongue. Sonic's tongue was _in his mouth._

Metal should pull away immediately. This contact _had_ to be dangerous. It had to—

Metal moaned. Sonic tasted so _nice._

Metal felt the little balance he had leave him. He fell to the side, but Sonic held fast to him before Metal could slam his head off the arm of the couch. Sonic had kissed Metal many times before, just as Metal had kissed Sonic, but never like _this,_ and Metal's shuddered from the sensation alone.

Sonic's inexperience was obvious. His tongue had no sense of finesse, and the position occasionally made it awkward for Metal to make any motions back, but Metal couldn't have cared less. Sonic was a beautiful mystery; perfect even when he wasn't.

Sonic's hand trailed downwards, sliding along Metal's light blue fur. Metal's hands shook, wanting to stroke Sonic's quills in return, but it was so hard to even _think,_ the pounding in his chest somehow outweighing the pounding in his head.

Metal squirmed, wonderfully helpless against Sonic's strength. Sonic's hand moved to Metal's chest, the skin extremely sensitive despite not being copper anymore. Metal let out a small mewl, involuntarily swallowing.

Something slid down his throat. Metal gasped.

Metal brought a hand to his neck as Sonic pulled away. Sonic's face was flushed almost as red as Metal's, but he was grinning smugly as he offered Metal a glass of water from the table.

Metal's glare was so pathetic, it was laughable. "Y-you...you took advantage of my weakened consciousness!"

Sonic shrugged as Metal downed the water. "Sorry, Mets! Can't help it if I'm _completely_ irresistible."

The worst part was that Metal couldn't even argue with that.

"Besides..." Sonic leaned in, Metal flushing and clutching the glass to his chest. Sonic's voice lowered to a whisper. "Now I can say for sure; you taste _amazing._ "

A pitiful squeak escaped Metal's throat. He couldn't even _process_ the rush of emotions he'd just experienced, and yet Sonic seemed wholly composed, getting up like it was nothing and heading towards the kitchen.

Metal stammered, "Y-you cannot just—!"

"Ah, but I did," Sonic replied smugly. "Sorry, Mets, but I did what I had to!"

Metal was both flustered and dazed. Sonic—stupid, wonderful Sonic—was so darn _confident._ It wasn't about the risk of Sonic getting sick, as Metal knew that Sonic's immune system was far stronger than his, but the fact that Sonic was so casual about kissing Metal like—

Metal flushed deeper at the memory alone. He was _speechless,_ watching as Sonic continued walking away from him.

He should probably be angry. Sonic had given him a pill without his consent, but honestly?

He couldn't be mad.

Metal's mind suddenly clicked with a thought. Somehow, he found his voice. "W-wait, Sonic!"

Sonic paused, turning to Metal with a smile. "Yeah?"

Metal's throat went dry. He pretended to be distracted by the nonexistent pattern on the wall. "When... does this medicine wear off?"

Sonic's ear twitched. His mouth dropped open then went back into a smug grin. He winked. "Whenever you want, Mets."

He disappeared into the kitchen. Metal's face went red as he slammed his face into the arm of the couch, praying for his illness to consume him.


End file.
